


The Great Decker

by young_monster



Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: AU, F/M, Inspired by The Great Gatsby, Lost Love, M/M, kinda happy ending, reunited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 14:12:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14427120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/young_monster/pseuds/young_monster
Summary: It's been many years, but Jorel is still hung up on one guy from his past.





	The Great Decker

**Author's Note:**

> I studied The Great Gatsby in my english class, and it was the first book we've read that I actually kinda loved. Jay Gatsby is adorable and I love him. And you know, Jorel... Jay... this just kinda happened. I also tried experimenting with my writing style, and I hoped it turned out alright. I might continue this in the future.  
> Please enjoy!

It was a cool night. Warm enough that I was comfortable in my favorite long-sleeved shirt. I had gotten it when I went to overseas for the war. I snagged it from a broken shop, but not before leaving what spare change I had on the counter. I knew the family was probably dead, but it eased my conscious a little to leave the money. 

There was a light breeze, not enough to make my pants all flowing and shit, but enough that I felt the wind on my face, twisting through my short hair. I needed a haircut, but I kind of liked it at the length it was. It was fun to play with. 

I stood on my dock, overlooking the bay. The water was dark, but there was a light, far far away, on the other side of the bay; it was a blinking light, at the end of the house’s dock. It was blue, which I found odd, yet comforting. 

It was typical of the man who lived at the house - excuse me, mansion - on the other side of the bay. He was very rich, not unlike myself. Although, he had something that my colleagues had taken to calling “old” money. The family across the bay were rich from family money, made back when the railroads were being built and everyone and their mother knew how to make a few bucks off the government. 

I hadn’t known the man across the bay very long - we met eight years ago, but ceased all contact a few months after we met, to be exact. Before the war, to be even more exact. I was deployed to a base not far from his parent’s mansion, where he and his bachlor friends would go out on the town and try and meet the local ladies. 

I had met him once, when I was stationed to be a chauffeur for his father, who was a good friend of a few military high-up. His father was a nice man, if a bit rude, but all rich people were like that. 

Anywho, he and I had met then, and ended up talking for hours. We met again the next night, and then again the next. Every night, for two months, we talked. It never went further than that, despite our clear development of feelings. I was always painfully obvious about how I felt about him, but he was more reserved about it. I knew the truth, though. He told me, the day before I was to be sent overseas. 

It was a painful goodbye. We knew we loved each other, but we knew that we couldn’t be together. We were men, it wasn’t allowed. It still isn’t allowed. We might as well sign our death warrants if we were to expose ourselves as homosexual. 

His own reluctance also stemmed from the fact that he was rich, and I was poor. He never admitted it, but I knew the truth. I barely had five cents to my name, whereas he would sneeve five cents at a time. And he sneezed a lot. Spring allergies and all.

Then I was deployed. I spent four years overseas, moving around to wherever they needed me. Once I was back in the States, I accumulated my own wealth through a series of small businesses that I don’t feel like talking about. I moved to across the bay from where he lived.

He and his wife and his child all live across the bay. I live here, with my own accumulated wealth, on this side of the bay. He doesn’t know I live here, at least not yet. But, I have a connection. 

My neighbor, a lovely chipper old sport by the name of Danny, happens to be his wife’s cousin. They were quite close as children, Danny tells me. I invited him over to tea a couple times, and we talked. I’ve been told I’m quite easy to talk to. 

Danny told me that myself and my family had been invited over to the mansion of the man I loved. For coffee, and perhaps lunch. To catch up, Danny said, and to introduce me to his cousin. Danny doesn’t know that I very much know his cousin’s husband. 

 

One of my own servants drove myself and my family up to the mansion, along with Danny. Danny has gotten along well with my wife and my daughter, which was nice. I married a very nice woman; her name is Vanessa, and she’s wonderful. I think that in a different universe, I would’ve actually loved her more than anything. Not to say that I dislike her, I don’t. I just don’t love her, not in the way that a man should love a woman. 

Vanessa knows this about me, and accepted it. I’m fairly certain she only married me for my wealth, as she could have anyone wrapped around her finger quite easily. She claims that she loves me, in the same way that I love her - in a platonic way, of course. We have a good time together, at least I’d like to think. We do fun things, like walk along the beach, and go out to eat. Vanessa particularly likes going to drive-in theaters, and watching horror films. Some of them are quite good, I do admit. 

We had a child, if only to keep up the facade of our marriage. We have a sweet little girl, of three years old. Danny’s her godfather, and it was by his suggestion that we named her Scarlett. I love her very much; I want her to live a good life, and I want her to be a good person. 

All too soon, we pull up to the mansion. Danny’s chatting our ears off about his cousin, a woman named Asia, and how much we’re gonna like her. Vanessa’s entertaining him with smiles and nods, while I try to prepare myself for what could possibly be the worst encounter of my life. 

A few servants came up to the car, and led us all to the door. Vanessa started pointing out various sights to Scarlett, and the two of them giggled as we walked up the long pathway. My own thoughts had taken me too far away, back to years ago, when I was a poor soldier and he was a rich debutante. Well, he still was. Not much has changed for him, it seemed. 

The servant opened the front door, and led us all inside. Danny was in awe of the mansion, while Vanessa examined everything within. Scarlett grabbed my hand, so she could look around herself without wandering. I was her safety leash, and the thought filled me with gratitude. 

We were all led to a sitting room, far into the house. The double doors were opened, and I got the first sight of the man I haven’t seen in many years.

George Ragan stood tall and proud in front of a window that reached the ceiling. The windows were cracked open, allowing a light breeze to flow into the room; the white curtains billowed around him gracefully. He wore a forest green suit, and it brought out the pure ice blue in his eyes. 

I froze, unable to do anything but stare. He was so gorgeous it was almost painful. I was in a trance, at least until my daughter tugged on my hand. I had forgotten there was anyone else here, much less my own family. 

“Jay, this is George Ragan,” Danny said, oblivious to the fact that we hadn’t looked away from each other. Then, he gestured to a lovely looking woman sitting down next to him. “And this is his wife, my cousin, Asia.” 

The woman had long, brown hair, and sharp features. She was very pretty, but I couldn’t decide if she was worthy of George. I smiled wide, and pretended to act like I was a human. I gestured grandly to my own family. “I’m Jorel, this is my wife, Vanessa, and my daughter, Scarlett.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Jorel,” George said, holding out his hand with his own wide smile. 

“Nice to meet you too,” I murmured, meeting his icey eyes with a hesitant gaze.

“Your house is amazing,” Vanessa said, drawing all the attention to herself. I loved that she could so easily do that, considering right now, I wanted to just die in a ditch somewhere. “Very gorgeous, I’m quite jealous.” 

Asia laughed at that. It was a sweet sound, one I’m sure George liked every much. He was a very lucky guy. “Thank you, we try to keep it well kempt. Especially with our own little one running around.” She turned to her… husband, and smiled at him. “Love, where is she?” 

“She’s right here, ma’am.” One of the servants entered the room, holding the hand of a little girl, possibly a bit older than my own. She had curly hair, and bright green eyes. A cute little girl; she’s very lucky to have a father like George. Anyone would be. 

“There’s my little girl!” George crouched down, and held his arms out wide. The little girl ran into his arms with a squeal. He picked her up, and swung her around; it was a heart-warming scene to watch. I instinctively held my daughter’s hand a little tighter, out of love. 

“This is our daughter, Ava,” Asia told us, watching her family with a smile. “She’s seven.” 

That number hit me, right in the heart. She was born only a year after I had left. George had moved on to another woman only months after I left. It was like I was never there in the first place. Although maybe to him, I wasn’t. 

“Our little Scarlett is only three,” Vanessa says, rubbing our daughter’s back. “Ava here is very pretty.” 

“What do you say?” George asked his daughter as he placed her down on the floor. 

Ava blushed, and grasped her hands behind her back. “Thank you.” 

“Why don’t you go show little Scarlett your doll collection?” George offered, lightly patting his daughter on the shoulder. He then looked to me, and once again, I was enchanted by how blue his eyes were. 

I looked to my wife, and we both nodded. “If Scarlett wants to see them, and they’re supervised, then sure.” 

Asia grinned, then beckoned forth one of the servants on standby. “Please escort Ava and Scarlett to the playroom, Sophie.” 

Said servant nodded, then took the two children by the hands, and off they went, into the house. 

“So, Danny,” Asia turned to her cousin, whom I had forgotten was even here. “How have you been, living here?” 

Danny and my family ended up staying for hours longer than we had planned. The Ragans were very nice hosts. There was plenty of food, and drinks, and constant music playing throughout the house. Somewhere along the afternoon, our two little girls had managed to round us all up for a tea party, with actual tea. I was surprised that Scarlett enjoyed the tea; even I found it a little bitter, and needed to add some sugar. 

As the night fell, my wife decided to take our daughter home. Then, George offered to take me out onto his dock, and share some ale. I smiled at that - he always loved his ale, even when he could afford the finest of liquors. 

He and I stood now, on the wooden dock, overlooking the bay. I pointed idly over to my house, feeling uneasy for some inexplicable reason. “I live there,” I told George. 

He hummed. “You do? Since when?” 

“Since about a year, or perhaps less. My house isn’t as lavish as yours.” 

“I see.” 

“Your wife is lovely,” I said, attempting to make conversation while also leading to the topic I want so desperately to discuss. 

“She is, isn’t she?” George didn’t sound like he really meant what he’s saying. 

“Your daughter’s nice, too. A sweet girl, I think she’ll be a fine woman.”

“I do too. Your wife and daughter are superb as well.” 

“Thank you. I’m happy with them.” We both knew the lie underlying my words. 

George turned to me, his face blank and carefully guarded. “How have you been, Jorel?” 

“I’ve been good,” I said, not really knowing how exactly to approach this whole thing. “How have you been, George?” 

“I’ve been… good, I suppose. Not quite happy, but not sad or anything.” 

I nodded. “I’ve been sad. I feel like there’s something missing from my life. Something that if I had, I would be much happier with.” 

“Jorel.” It was almost a warning, but not enough for me to care.

“Would you like to go to lunch, George?” I asked him, looking him in the eyes and smiling, like a cordial friend and not a possible long-lost lover. “I’ll pay, I have my own wealth now.” 

“You do? You were always an ambitious one.” George smiled, and held out his hand. “I’d love to.” 

I shook his hand, and resisted the urge to pull him into a hug. That would most definitely be overstepping my boundaries. 

 

Once back in the house, Vanessa wouldn’t stop smiling at me as we ate our dinner. 

“What is it?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows at her. “Did Scarlett do something?” 

Vanessa shakes her head, and doesn’t stop smiling. “You and George. It’s cute.” 

“How?” 

“You two obviously know how you feel about each other, and won’t acknowledge it. You should stop dancing around the subject, and confess to him how you feel.” 

“And what if he rejects me? What if he’s moved on, and he actually loves his wife, who’s a very nice woman? I was just a peasant when we met, I wouldn’t be surprised if I meant nothing to him from the beginning.” I began pushing my food around with my fork, instead of eating it. It was my favorite - seasoned vegetables - but my appetite had suddenly disappeared. During the war, I was forced to give up eating meat, and then I realized that I felt better, more healthy, when I didn’t eat meat.

“I doubt he’s moved on from you,” Vanessa grinned at me. “I saw the way he looked at you, and that was most definitely a lovestruck look.” 

I shook my head. “That can’t be true.”   
“Want me to talk to him?” 

“God, no.” I knew how blunt she could be; it’s one of the reasons I chose to marry her over other people - I always knew what she was thinking. Mainly because she always told me. “I’ll talk to him myself.” 

“Daddy!” Scarlett came running down the hall, dressed in her pajamas and trailed by her nurse. “Will you read me a bedtime story?” 

I grinned, and scooped my little girl up my arms. I was always happy to read her a bedtime story - I would give the characters funny voices, and weird accents and shit. She’d be laughing so much that’d she tire herself out, and pass out as soon as the story was finished. “Of course I will, baby girl. Let’s go.” 

 

I pulled up to George’s mansion in my car - a sweet little blue gal, brand new and top of the market - and honked twice. George quickly appeared on his front step, slipping on a navy blue jacket over a salmon colored shirt. As always, the sight of him took my breath away. I felt inferior in my own gray suit, even with my red dress shirt. George always told me I looked decent in red. 

“Good morning, Georgie!” I greeted him, opening the car door for him. 

“Good morning, Jorel,” George replied as he sat down next to me. It kind of hurt that he didn’t call me by my nickname, but I didn’t say that.

“Anywhere specific you’d like to go to lunch?” I asked, revving the engine a little and then taking off. I was a good driver, even if I sometimes drove a little fast for Vanessa’s comfort. 

“I heard there was a new place, something with ‘valley’ in the title, I think. It sounded interesting.” 

I didn’t mention that I had previous dealings with the owner of that restaurant. I just hoped that they didn’t recognize me, or at least point me out. “I know what you’re talking about, it’s called 818 Valley, and it’s divine. You’ll love it.” 

“You drive yourself often?” George kept looking out at the trees zooming past us. Within a few minutes, we’d be driving through the land of ashes. 

“Often enough.” It was the truth, after all, and I would never tell George anything  _ but  _ the truth.

 

The restaurant wasn’t too terribly busy - it was mid afternoon on a Wednesday, after all - so we had a nice table in the corner, away from all the other patrons. George and I made small talk until our food arrived, and then silence settled over us as we ate. 

Once we ate, coffees with whiskey in them were brought to us. Courtesy of my dealings with the owner. They served good whiskey here; I wasn’t normally a day drinker, but a little bit in a cup of coffee wouldn’t do anyone any harm. 

“So, George,” I leaned forward on my elbows, and twiddled my fingers around my mug. “I-I wanna talk to you about something.” 

“Jorel, this isn’t-” 

“I know that it’s ridiculous to bring this up after eight years, but I can’t help but-” 

“Jay.” 

That effectively shut me up. He sounded so damn heartfelt when he said my nickname. 

George’s hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach forward but didn’t. “Jay, we were in love years ago. So much time has passed, my feelings have changed. Your’s have too, whether you want to accept it or not. You’re married, for Christ’s sake. You have your own little girl. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’ve moved on to some degree.” 

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore.” I said... almost whined. This conversation was going down a direction I desperately wanted to avoid. 

“Nor does it mean I don’t love you either. But…” George sighed, and ran his hands through his short hair. “I just want to be sure that we love the people that we’ve become, so we aren’t stuck in the past.” 

“What are you saying?” I had an idea of what he was trying to say, but I was also often wrong.

“Would you like to go to dinner and maybe a show with me?” George smiled, almost as if he were embarrassed. “A lot. Like every Saturday, perhaps?” 

I wanted to shout with glee, but I also still didn’t really know what he was getting at. “Every Saturday?” 

“I want to date again,” George finally said, nice and blunt, the way I liked it. “I want to see if you’re the still the man I knew all those years ago.” 

“I’d like that.” And suddenly, I was blushing like an idiot. I felt like I was a young man again, barely an adult, and being courted by a handsome, wealthy debutante. 

George smiled, and suddenly he looked like he himself was barely an adult, and had a huge crush on some pathetic little soldier about to be deployed overseas. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow, at seven then.” 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please leave a comment or a kudos! They go a long way!


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